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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801306">Kei Tsukishima x Reader: Well, Shit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiler/pseuds/leiler'>leiler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Soft Tsukishima Kei, Tsuki Opens Up, Volleyball, language partially inspired by touloser, strong main</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:54:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiler/pseuds/leiler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t know exactly how you came to be friends with Kei Tsukishima. Maybe it was the hours of pointless, petty debates about everything from food to homework. Maybe it was the way you badgered him over volleyball and the miffed glare he shot at you whenever you did so. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with fiery indignation at the unjust natural abilities of his teammates. Maybe it was none of these things.</p><p>Maybe, it was all of them. </p><p>But what you absolutely could not fucking explain…</p><p>...was how you fell in love with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei &amp; Reader, Tsukishima Kei &amp; Y/N, Tsukishima Kei/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You don’t know exactly how you came to be friends with Kei Tsukishima. Perhaps it was the hours of pointless, petty debates about everything from food to homework. Or the way you badgered him over volleyball and the miffed glare he shot at you whenever you did so. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with fiery indignation at the unjust natural abilities of his teammates. Maybe it was none of these things.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, it was all of them. </p><p> </p><p>But what you absolutely could not fucking explain…</p><p> </p><p>...was how you fell in love with him. </p><p> </p><p>~~~~ Flashback ~~~~</p><p> </p><p>You weren’t exactly friends with Kei Tsukishima; rather, you had fallen into the steady pattern of watching his practice, and pestering him about his performance--and occasionally walking home together. </p><p> </p><p>But you weren’t friends--at least, he’d never call it that. So neither would you. </p><p> </p><p>Practice had ended that day and you stood outside the gym, waiting for Tsukki to exit the building. You watched as his fellow players shuffled past you out of the building, observing the looks on their faces as they passed. Their countenances reflected the events of practice, the shared looks of frustration and annoyance telling the tale all on their own. It had been a rough couple of weeks, and the pressure of upcoming competition wasn’t helping. </p><p> </p><p>Tsukki trailed behind the rest of the group, walking out unaccompanied. He looked more annoyed than disheartened, but he was just as tired as everyone else. You spoke first.</p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t watch today--school work. Long practice, I take it?” Your tone was more sarcastic than it was compassionate--as per the norm--but he couldn’t get any more annoyed than he already was, so you didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>He wiped his forehead with a small towel, catching the beads of sweat as they trailed down before they landed in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up and walk, Shorty. I don’t wanna hear it.” </p><p> </p><p>Your height? Your <em>height</em> of all things. You hated it when he ridiculed your height. You weren’t even that short, he was just a fucking giant. You squinted at him, trying to convey your disapproval. He rolled his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not my fault you’re like 6’2. You probably think 5’10 is short.”</p><p> </p><p>He flashed a cocky grin. “I do.”</p><p> </p><p>He began trudging down the cement path, silently urging you to walk with him. You wouldn’t want to walk home alone, after all. </p><p> </p><p>You strolled together in silence for a few moments before you decided to speak. You didn’t express anything meaningful--not yet, at least--but rather aimed to fill the space in the air. “Do we have any math homework tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that I know of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that you’d remember if we did anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>There it was: that glare you had been pining for. It was both comforting and fulfilling in nature. It told you he was annoyed--even though he wasn’t--but more importantly, it showed that the routine was falling into place. </p><p> </p><p>“At least I’m tall enough to play basketball.” A low blow, indeed. But you shot back with just as much force.</p><p> </p><p>“At least I can actually play hide and seek without being found in the first 5 minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>You smirked. There it was, again. That look. </p><p> </p><p>“At least I don’t need help reaching glasses on the top shelf.”</p><p> </p><p>It continued this way for a few minutes, the features of each street blurring together as more passed. And then you were home. </p><p> </p><p>It was a strange ritual indeed, but it was comfortable, it felt like home. Even if he seemed bothered by your comments, some part of you knew he wasn’t, and it was all in good fun. This dynamic was happy, it was safe. </p><p> </p><p>You stopped at your door and beamed at him. Another eye roll--his supply seemed to be infinite. </p><p> </p><p>Your smile turned to a sneer. “One day they’ll get stuck in the back of your head, y’know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Old wives tale.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever you say, just don’t blame me when it happens. I warned you.”</p><p> </p><p>And so it went that you parted ways. </p><p> </p><p>~~~~</p><p> </p><p>The ceremony commenced as he jogged up behind you to join you in your trek home, once again, the next day. </p><p> </p><p>“You walk fast for someone with such short legs.”</p><p><br/><br/>“And you talk a lot for someone with a small mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>He scowled. You scowled back. Two can play this game, you thought. But instead of responding, he got quiet. It was unsettling. And then he softened. He shifted his gaze towards the moon--practice had run late and it already shined upon the city with it’s fantastical luminescence.</p><p> </p><p>You followed his line of sight, admiring the scene as well. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Y/n. Are you happy?”</p><p> </p><p>The question was… shocking, to say the least. You looked at him, questioning the origins of his inquiry. Nonetheless, you responded. </p><p> </p><p>“I am. Are you?” </p><p> </p><p>He looked back down at you. The tone of the conversation had deviated from the norm. It was heavy, and it was dense--and it filled the silence more than words ever could. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you mean that, though?”</p><p> </p><p>Now you were really concerned. His question rattled you. Were you really, truly happy? Maybe not, but weren’t you supposed to say it was ok? </p><p> </p><p>You didn’t understand the emotions and they sprung to your mind, but everything bad about your life suddenly jumped out at you. The pain, the ache, the loss, the grief--all of it. The question had triggered something. Maybe deep down you knew that you felt empty. Your eyes glazed over for a moment, though you hoped he didn’t notice.</p><p> </p><p>With a deep breath, you pacified yourself. “I do.”</p><p> </p><p>It was hard to explain exactly what flashed through his eyes in that moment--something between compassion and understanding and regret, though you couldn’t explain the latter. And then a smile crawled across his face.</p><p> </p><p>But it wasn’t happy. It was soft, sad and delicate; like a wilting flower in its final hour as you watched the ephemeral beauty pass. You were sure it would pass in a few moments. It didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe that was it, maybe it was the fragile allure of his smile in that moment, maybe that was when it all started. </p><p> </p><p>But whatever it was, you couldn’t see him the same way after that. </p><p> </p><p>For the first time since meeting Kei Tsukishima, you had seen him vulnerable. </p><p> </p><p>And after that, everything would change. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You hadn’t spoken for a few days since he had “opened up” to you--if you could even call it that. You were too busy with school work, and frankly, confused over his little display. It didn’t make sense to you. You didn’t even know what you had seen. All you knew was that it had changed the dynamic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And you didn’t like it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After wrapping up what you had left of your history homework, you walked across campus to the gym, where you knew the team would be practicing. After peaking through the door, you confirmed your suspicions and took a seat in the bleachers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They had definitely run practice longer than normal--even Hinata was complaining and that <em>firecracker</em> always wanted to keep practicing. You scrolled over the scene in search of Tsukki. He was standing at the end of a line, observing as the players in front of him spiked balls Kageyama had set for them. It was almost his turn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he stepped into the front of the line, he tensed--not quite in nervousness; moreso that his body was preparing to run and jump. Though he barely had to jump anyways. Fucking giant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You smiled at the thought, though the sensation was fleeting, and replaced by apprehensiveness. It was a reminder of the old dynamic, <em>old</em> being the keyword here. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It happened quickly, between the running, the jumping, and the spiking. One moment Kageyama was setting, and the next, the ball landed with a hard thud on the other side of the court. He walked off nonchalantly, allowing room for the next spiker to take his place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tsukki repeated the drill a few times before Coach blew the whistle and the boys huddled in for a short, end-of-practice pep talk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While you couldn’t understand exactly what they were saying, the faces you could make out looked serious. It was almost competition season, after all. After a firm nod by Coach, the group scattered and left to the locker rooms, before returning in their proper school attire. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Tsukki reappeared, he glanced over the bleachers before his eyes met yours. An eye roll. Of course. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, you rose from your seat and joined him on the court--everyone but him, Kageyama and Hinata had left. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you decided to ‘grace me with your presence’, your Majesty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said I had homework, not that I couldn’t make it, dumbass.” You pushed yourself to act as if nothing had happened, to let the old ebb and flow set in again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. Let’s get going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned and walked out of the gym, you following closely behind as he pushed open the double doors. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You caught up to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” you started.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>God, it was awkward. You could only fool yourself for so long, before it became obvious that it wasn’t the same--then, not even <em>you</em> could lie to yourself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You kept trudging along in silence, but it didn’t feel like silence to you. No, for you, the silence was burning at the back of your neck and sweating behind your shirt. You didn’t want it to be so stiff, but you didn’t exactly have a solution for the issue either. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And so you walked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You were almost halfway to the house, and the tension still hadn’t eased up. It was frustrating and vexing all in one--in everything you could’ve said, in the countless opportunities you had both had to speak, and in how, still, neither said a word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna come to my game?” he asked, interrupting both the silence and your thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I am, dummy.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While it might not be obvious to the “untrained” ear, the use of the word “dummy” in itself was a shift. It was much softer than “dumbass” in a way that’s hard to explain--in a way that you only noticed because you had been trained through hours of interaction to be sensitive to even the slightest distortion of your exchanges. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You both caught it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, how was I supposed to know? You probably can’t even read the posters from down there.” He had definitely noticed, but he was venturing forth, overlooking your poor misuse of words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you even know about it? You probably can’t hear anything Coach says from up there, <em>and</em> you’d have to bend down to read.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least all I have to do is bend down. If you can’t read it, you have to get a ladder.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, Stick Boy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stick Boy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a weak comeback indeed, but the nickname satisfied you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re built like one, anyways. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you know I’m right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, and that’s fi-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, shut u-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Could you not interrupt me? Da-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ughhhh, you’re so annoying.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But you like me anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It shocked you for a moment, because you couldn’t tell if there was a meaning beyond a simple retort--that maybe, just maybe, he thought that you liked him as more than a friend. But it was nothing you couldn’t recover from.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like hell I do, Tsukki. Dream on.” You stopped walking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another fucking eye roll. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped closer to you. “Oh, really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, dumbass. Really.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even closer now. He bent his face down toward yours, making you heat up even more--though you were sure he couldn’t tell in the dark. Unlike the last little stroll you had taken, the moon did not shine brightly tonight, and the streetlights were the only thing standing between you and darkness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure about that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took you a moment--you were a bit perplexed by his behavior. It was just another way in which he was leaving behind the old rules and introducing new ones. But even in all your confusion, you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t about to let this <em>Dinosaur</em> win.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure. Keep dreaming, Lover Boy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lifted himself, releasing some of the suspense, though the general unease didn’t let up. You kept walking the second he did. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You pondered his actions as you roamed, but you felt agitated. You had already changed the routine once, why the fuck would he change it again?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You brushed it aside as you reached your house. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t leave you a parting message, opting to simply keep walking as you turned into the street, opened your door, and shut it behind you. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck you, fucking Kei Tsukishima. Fuck you and your confusing fucking behavior. Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You kicked off your shoes and headed for the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You hoped he was just as fucking annoyed as you were. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But deep down, you knew he wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because, while you never acknowledged it at the time, that glint in his eyes--the amused look that flashed over his face as he towered over you. You knew, you just fucking knew. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He liked it. </span>
</p>
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